This is a song about "They are"

Haters are lame, and they sloppy as seconds

Next month i want that plus, money long as your tour bus

My skills they are all weak

If he does my soul to keep

Pockets on heavy d, bitch i'm hot, third degree

Why can't they go away, bothering me are they really

Blessed to be who they are

That gal want me ride har

Women who are told that they are on some "bitch shit",

It’s a fact that i ain’t givin’ up my stacks like that

And the headrest had to have about eight thorns

They believe that they are the over-lords

Are they made outta plastic?

All you wanna do is get that stick